"Noran doesn't want it," said Anglhan. "And for all your son's credit in starting this whole thing with Aroisius, he clearly isn't old and experienced enough to run a city."
"And you are qualified?" scoffed Urikh. "A half-literate slaver with pretensions to grandeur?"
"I was a debt guardian, not a slaver," Anglhan replied softly. "And I am fully literate and numerate, thank you. I even speak a little Nemurian. Do you?"
Urikh seemed about to protest further when Ullsaard lifted up his legs and let his chair thud to the floor.
"I need you for other things, Urikh," he said. "You'll be coming with me. If Noran doesn't want the job, why don't I just keep Gerlhan in his position? It would certainly stop some of the problems we might have."
"What 'things' have you in mind for me?" said Urikh, straightening haughtily. "I am not one of your captains to be ordered around as you please."
"No, you're my son, which means your duty to me is even deeper. You will do what I tell you to do or I will disown you and cast you out, and that bitch of a mother you have. I no longer have to worry about what Aalun and the nobles think of me, I have no reputation to protect, so I'll do as I bloody well please. If you have a problem with that, you can leave now."
Urikh became the centre of attention as he squirmed in his chair, caught between his dislike of his father and his dependence on him.
"For my mother's sake, I shall remain," he said, folding his arms angrily.
"You can't leave Gerlhan in charge," said Anglhan. "He has too many connections with other chieftains across Salphoria. He could cause a lot of trouble."
"Your greed clouds your reason," said Noran. Anglhan whirled towards him.
"I have never lied about my ambition to rule the city. Well, not to you. It was my intent to betray Aroisius and take control, but that is no longer needed. I understand this city better than any outsider, and I know how the Salphor mind works."
Anglhan paced across the room as he set out his vision for the city.
"This place can become a tribute to the ideals of Askhos under me. We will make Magilnada an icon of civilisation again, lost these past two hundred years since the decline of its founders. Salphor and Askhan will be welcome together and the peoples that live duskward of here will see that there is nothing to be lost by accepting Askhan values into their lives. We can show them the benefits of being part of Greater Askhor, and when I am done the people in the city, the people who trade here and travel through Magilnada will be your best spokesmen."
Noran and Ullsaard looked at each other. The noble seemed impressed and gave a slight nod. Urikh was still sulking.
"Words are all well and good, but can I trust you?" Ullsaard asked.
"I have no reason to turn on you, Ullsaard." Anglhan sat on the stool in front of the general, his face earnest. "I am a man who has enjoyed meagre fortune and made the most of it through my life. You think I am greedy, but I am not. I will take my share of the city's dues, and I will rule it in my name for your cause."
Anglhan placed a hand on Ullsaard's knee.
"I have everything to lose by betraying you, and nothing to gain. Leave a thousand of your men here, under one of your best captains. They are loyal to you and you alone. They would be your guarantee of my good behaviour."
Ullsaard considered this for a while, rocking his chair back and forth.
"Very well," he said. "I agree to your terms. You will increase Askhan influence in the city until it can be brought into the empire willingly."
The general stood up and bent over Anglhan, dwarfing him with his massive frame.
"And remember that if you fuck around with me, I will come back and not only kill you, I'll burn this whole place to the ground. Is that understood?"
Anglhan kept his composure well and simply nodded.
"Good," said Ullsaard, straightening up. "What should we do with Gerlhan? Do you need him?"
Anglhan shrugged.
"No point keeping him in the city, he'll do everything he can to undermine me."
Ullsaard nodded and strode to the door leading to the adjacent room. He opened it and signalled to the legionnaires standing guard over the former chieftain. As Ullsaard turned back to the others there was the sound of a brief struggle, ended by a gurgling cry and the thud of something heavy hitting the floor.
"Well, that is all sorted," said Urikh. He looked at his father with raised eyebrows. "Just what are you going to do come the spring to convince the king to call off Nemtun and allow you to lead your legions into Salphoria?"
"I'm not going to convince the king of anything," said Ullsaard walking to the door that led onto the street. "It's gone too far for any negotiation."
"What do you mean?" Noran called out as Ullsaard opened the door. "What are you going to do? What is the plan?"
Ullsaard turned around to face them, one hand on the door frame. He looked at Anglhan, Urikh and his gaze settled on Noran. His next words were spoken in a matter-of-fact tone, the same way he would tell an officer to prepare a provisions list or name the men on punishment duty.
"I am going to be the next king."
Anrair
Early Spring, 209th Year of Askh
I
"What if they put up a fight?" asked Rondin.
"We kill them," said Ullsaard.
The general looked down the road winding through the foothills. The first caravan of the season headed towards Talladmun; more than thirty wagons laden with timber and ore, smelted bronze and quarried stone. There were probably three hundred people, perhaps more. Some of them pulled handcarts; others walked next to the wagons or rode on them. Ullsaard could see the covered carriages of the richest merchants, and the bodyguards that protected them. Most would be ex-legionnaires, drawn back to a violent life for any number of reasons. Here and there a Nemurian towered over the humans; no more than half a dozen, for which Ullsaard was thankful. His army, hidden just below the ridge behind him, numbered twenty thousand of his men and was more than a match for anything the mercenaries could offer, but Nemurians fought to the death if paid and would take a toll in Ullsaard's soldiers doing so.
He looked further dawnwards, towards the Nalanor border. He could see the rising sun glinting from the weapons and armour of Luamid's men, a detachment of five hundred that would close in on the rear of the caravan to stop any fleeing back towards Askh. "Let's show ourselves," said Ullsaard, raising a hand.
The hills came alive with the rustle of men moving, the jangle of armour, the thump of sandaled feet. As the first ranks of the legions came into view, hurried shouts from the lead wagons warned the rest of the caravan. Drivers pulled their abada to a stop and pointed towards the hills, at line after line of armed soldiers spread along the road.
While shock pulsed back through the caravan, a few groups tried to turn their wagons around. Carts became entangled with each other in the panic, while women started screaming and children wailed. A few cowardly souls broke altogether, leaping the ditch that flanked the road to sprint away across the hills on the other side. Ullsaard was happy for them to go; he wanted people to know what he was doing.
With the general leading the advance, the greater part of Ullsaard's legions marched down the ridge, descending on the caravan in a bronze, red and black wave ready to sweep away all in its way. Families clustered around the menfolk, while the unruly snorts of the abada and cries of other animals added to the commotion.
Ullsaard headed for a particularly elaborate covered wagon a little from the front of the line, judging it to belong to the caravan's master. The men who stood guard beside the wagon warily eyed the general and his bodyguard as the legionnaires drew up into a block just in front of them. A short, chubby man with heavy rings on his fingers and a few stray locks of hair plastered over his bald scalp peered nervously from under the canopy.